


Keep On Haunting Me

by dykeadellic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Asylum, Brief mention of past rape, F/F, Halloweeny, clarke and lexa hold the story, dont judge me i am sick, scary and spooky shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeadellic/pseuds/dykeadellic
Summary: When Clarke gets dared to explore the local abandoned Asylum, she bumps into Lexa, the cute out of towner whose family has a history with the place. Will they ever see ghosts, or is the place not really as haunted as everyone believes?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I missed Clextober because I didn't have my laptop at that time. But now I do, and it's FUCKING HALLOWEEN!!! What's Halloween without Clexa? Here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Clarke checked her Swiss Army backpack to see that she had all her equipment. She knew that exploring the abandoned Polis Asylum had been a dare, but damn was it exciting to even think about doing! It had started at the party Octavia had thrown in hopes of luring Lincoln, the popular football jock, there to see her. It’d been a small party, with mainly their close friends and a few stragglers. They’d all decided on drunk truth or dare, something Clarke was sure she would regret. And of course, she had been dared first by Monty to explore the Polis Asylum where many illegal and inhumane experiments had been conducted on patients. It was said to be the most haunted place in their town, though it was truthfully on the very edge of town. That had been done for the patients' anonymity, apparently. 

Clarke felt it was a silly dare, but it would also be fun. She doubted she would actually see anything. More than likely, she’d end up scaring herself like she always managed to do. Clarke was notoriously clumsy. Her friends didn’t seem to mind, but it did mean they would never take her skydiving just in case. Heels when out drinking? Out of the question after Clarke had broken two heels simultaneously two weekends in a row. She still wasn’t sure how that had occurred. But despite this, Clarke didn’t feel the need to slow her life down.

Don’t get it twisted; Clarke was not an alcoholic. She drank on weekends sometimes. Other times she simply sipped wine and studied for exams. Other times there was no alcohol. But she was enjoying it while she lasted. She was studying to be a surgeon, specialty undecided, like her mother was. Clarke had always loved being snuck into the galley to watch whatever procedure was going on. The chief was best friends with her dad, and his son Wells had become Clarke’s best friend at a very young age. They were inseparable except for this. Wells was not okay with doing this.

But shit, Clarke was! This was right up Clarke’s alley, actually. Clarke had often dreamt of ghosts. Or maybe it was spirits. Clarke wasn’t super into it, but she loved to binge watch ghost hunting shows and all kinds of scary movies. She even wanted an ouija board. A real one, though, not one of those kids' ones. Those didn’t have the right vibe about them, in Clarke’s opinion. Not that anyone had asked for her opinion, but even still.

Clarke gripped the flashlight in her hand tightly. It was barely light still, and she had just seen the security guard go to the back of the building, leaving the side unattended. It had been guarded ever since a group of teens had snuck in and done some kind of ritual that involved an awful lot of blood. No one could really confirm these rumors, but everyone in town took them as fact.

She snuck quietly to the side door, waiting for a moment before placing the flashlight on the ground and using the crowbar in her right hand to pry open the ancient, moss-covered door. When the door gave, Clarke stopped and put the crowbar in her backpack, removed the infrared camera she had borrowed from Raven, picked up her flashlight, and stepped into the old, abandoned building.

The first thing Clarke noticed before she had even clicked on the flashlight was the smell. It was damp and mossy. Not a moldy smell like Clarke had expected. It was more like the woods during a fog. When she clicked on the flashlight, she immediately saw that the floors were concrete. This had apparently been typical in the old buildings. The walls were yellow, and Clarke had imagined, no could almost picture, that they had once been a creamy white. But that had been decades ago, and time had taken its toll on the walls. There was graffiti on some of them, but as she shone her flashlight down the halls, she just knew that there would soon be none.

Clarke felt a prickly feeling in the back of her neck. She just knew if she closed her eyes and opened them, she would see the Asylum as it had once been. There would be nurses hustling around, tortured patients, and maybe even an arrogant doctor. Here time had stood still. Here the pain had never ended, and Clarke Griffin was scared.

Yet despite being afraid, Clarke’s feet carried her forward. She opened the infrared camera and saw nothing to cause alarm… yet, at least. Talk about spooky, she thought to herself. Her footfalls were the only sound in the building that Clarke could hear. The silence was eerie and disturbing, but Clarke carried on. She was not one to punk out on a bet.

The place was easy to navigate. Clarke was able to access the staff room immediately and from there the rest of the building. Clarke pulled her recorder out in an incredibly eerie place, set the camera down, and hit record.

“Hello?” Clarke spoke loudly, just in case the departed were hard of hearing.

“Hello,” came a voice from behind her.

Clarke, to her credit, did not scream. She would later realize she couldn’t have even if she had wanted to; her vocal cords were frozen. So instead, she spun around, bringing herself eye to eye with a brunette with eyes greener than any forest known to man. Her skin was golden, and she was thin but very obviously well muscled. She was perfection, in a nutshell.

“You’re not a ghost,” Clarke breathed with relief.

The woman chuckled at this.

“No, I’m not. My name is Lexa. Who are you?”

Her voice was deeper than Clarke had expected but still warm and sweet. Clarke wanted to close her eyes and just listen to this woman, and she wasn’t quite sure why that was.

“I’m Clarke… Griffin. Clarke Griffin. Do you have a last name?” she inquired.

Lexa smirked. 

“Of course I do. It’s Woods. Lexa Woods.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you here ghost hunting, too?” 

Clarke couldn’t deny that she was incredibly curious about this woman.

“Ghost hunting?” Lexa smirked. “No, I just felt… called to explore this place. Do you ghost hunt a lot?”

Clarke smiled and shook her head.

“No, I got dared during a very drunk game of truth or dare, and I never wimp out on a dare,” Clarke explained.

And this was true. Clarke had done many idiotic things because of dares. Things she’d really rather not think about. Things no one but Wells knew the full story behind. Though as of late, Octavia and Raven were part of the crew, too. 

“Sounds fun. So, were you hoping to catch the voice of a ghost?” Lexa asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as though in thoughtfulness.

Clarke let out a laugh. 

“Honestly, Lexa, I am not sure. Maybe I was… or maybe I’d be chicken shit if I had caught a voice. One other than yours, obviously.”

“Would you mind if I joined you? That way, just in case this place is really haunted, we won’t have to deal with scary, creepy shit on our own,” Lexa half asked, half demanded, taking a step towards Clarke, her green eyes boring into Clarke’s blue ones.

For a moment, Clarke almost forgot how to breathe. She was so lost in Lexa’s eyes that she felt herself stepping forward as though it weren’t her doing it. But then, as Clarke Griffin was wont to do, she came back to her senses and cleared her throat in a thoroughly embarrassed way.

“That sounds great. It is pretty spooky here,” Clarke said softly.

Lexa gave a wicked grin.

“Oh, Clarke, you don’t know the half of it.”

Clarke thought this a rather strange thing to say.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

Lexa shrugged and then said, “I just know a lot of the history of this place. One of my great-great-great, maybe a few more greats, aunts, was a patient here. I am actually named after her, but I choose to go by Lexa.”

Clarke was slightly impressed.

“Did she ever make it out?” Clarke asked.

Lexa’s eyes fell to the ground as she said, “No, she died here.”

Clarke felt a vice on her chest.

“Lexa, I am so sorry…”

Lexa’s eyes snapped back up, and she smirked that slow, sexy smirk that made Clarke want to rip off her clothes and beg the other woman to do many, many dirty things to her.

“It was a long time ago, Clarke, and I didn’t know her. I just know her from the diaries I’ve read. And the logs kept by the family of her treatment here. They were very detailed, and this place was… barbaric, to say the least.”

“How so? I don’t know anything besides the ‘It was inhumane and is now haunted’ bit,” Clarke explained.

Lexa took a few steps over and said, “Walk with me, and I will explain everything.”

Clarke wasn’t sure she could have resisted even if she wanted to, although she thoroughly did not want to. She wanted to learn more about Lexa Woods. Anything and everything she could learn about the other woman.

They walked together, Lexa guiding them through filing rooms until they stepped out into an enormous, open space. There were reddish stains on the walls and floor, and the scent of blood still lingered faintly in the air. Clarke shivered, and Lexa reached out and set her hand on Clarke’s arm as though to comfort Clarke. Instead of comforting, Clarke felt a powerful yearning, and she pulled away from Lexa, going to look at the stained walls and floor to cover up the fact that Lexa affected her.

“I wonder what happened here,” Clarke mused out loud.

“The bloodstain on the floor is from Sally Jerkins. Sally was brought here after a miscarriage at some point far enough along in her pregnancy that they had to make her deliver her baby. She fell into a deep depression, which is understandable. The doctors kept telling her just to try again, but Sally was hesitant. They thought exposure therapy might work. So, they had a male orderly try to… sleep with her. She said no. She said no and got away from her room and ran screaming down here. And with god and everyone watching, he pinned her down out here, pulled her dress up, and raped her.”

Lexa took a deep breath and continued, “Three months later, they realized she was pregnant… pregnant, and it couldn’t have possibly been her husband’s baby. What’s worse than a hysterical wife? One who gets pregnant by someone else, even if she didn’t ask for it. Her husband divorced her. The orderly had no want for a child, and he demanded she get an abortion. They did it, and two days later, Sally slit her wrist right there.”

“They couldn’t stop the bleeding or something?” Clarke asked, looking into Lexa’s eyes, enthralled by the story.

“From what my family knows from Alexandria Woods, people called for help, but no one came. It wasn’t a loss. Society already labeled her a whore the way it was. There was no funeral or memorial. No one but the fellow patients cared. My great aunt being the person who cared the most,” Lexa said, a cold hard look in her eyes.

“Her husband must have been a real asshole to leave her because she got raped and pregnant,” Clarke spat out, her inner feminist rising to the surface.

Lexa gave a hollow chuckle and said, “Actually, from what we know from documentation, he was a pretty great man. He was from the upper class, like Alexandria. Sally had been in poverty her whole life. And he came to the school one day to give a speech on the importance of education, and he saw Sally. It was love at first sight. She was a teacher, and he began to woo her. They married not long after.”

Clarke glared at the blood-stained concrete before saying what was on her mind.

“If he was such a great man, why did he leave?”

Lexa sighed. “Who knows? Although it would make sense if…”

“If what?” Clarke asked impatiently.

Lexa appeared to be biting her cheek before she spoke.

“Well, what if they didn’t tell him it was supposed to be a part of her therapy? What if he just thought she had cheated and gotten pregnant? They covered up a lot. I’m sure if we can find the files, we could find out…”

“Let’s go!” Clarke demanded.

Lexa smirked and didn’t shake Clarke off, who had grabbed her by the arm, ready to pull Lexa through the whole building.

“Clarke, there are a lot of files in different areas, I am sure. You see that everything is still standing,” Lexa said, gesturing to the chairs and tables in the day room.

“So it’ll take all night, possibly?” Clarke asked.

“Possibly longer. Why don’t we keep searching the building? There’s a map on that wall. We could… that is if you wanted… we could come here every Saturday at dusk and search more and more,” Lexa asked, her eyes searching Clarke’s for something.

Clarke knew she couldn’t say no. Not to Lexa. She wanted to know she would see the other woman again. She wanted to get to know her better. Like was she into women? Or was Clarke deluding herself?

“I’d love that, Lexa,” Clarke spoke with a genuine smile.

Lexa’s smirk came back. 

“Good. Now let’s grab that map.”

The next ten minutes were spent pouring over the map, trying to figure out where to start. Clarke thought the nurses' station seemed most evident as it was right next to them and was sure to have some records of medications taken by patients. Though how far back those records went was up for question.

“They might be in the basement for storage. A place this big must have seen many, many people,” Clarke said thoughtfully.

Lexa nodded in agreement.

As they began searching the nurses' station, Lexa spoke.

“So tell me about yourself, Clarke.”

Clarke blushed as she handed a second flashlight to Lexa, whose flashlight had just died. 

“What is there to tell?” Clarke mumbled.

Lexa smirked. “A beautiful woman like you? I am sure there is a lot. How old are you?”

Clarke flushed at being called beautiful, wondering if she had just been hit on.

“I’m twenty-one. What about you, Lexa?”

“I am twenty-six, and a trust fund baby if you must know. I do a lot of traveling.”

Clarke decided to try her luck and said, “I was wondering why I’d never heard of the most beautiful woman in this town.”

“Oh, really?” Lexa asked with a smirk, and Clarke simply nodded in response.

“I am just here to see this place… and maybe get to know a beautiful woman,” Lexa said softly, a sultry look in her eyes.

Clarke’s heart was hammering in her chest. Lexa liked women. Lexa liked women. Lexa liked women!! Clarke was doing a mental dance just thinking about it. Sure, Lexa probably wouldn’t stay for her, but they could end up having mind-blowing sex some time.

“Where are you staying?” Clarke asked.

Lexa paused, and the smirk almost faltered before she said, “Outside of town with a friend.”

Clarke felt her heart deflate a bit, but that friend could have been the whole reason Lexa was here. It wasn’t cool to ditch your friend to hook up with a woman for nights on end. Because Clarke knew it would be a repeated thing. Lexa was sexy. She had that smirk, and those lips and that blasted panty dripping smirk! It was too much and not enough all at once.

Lexa Woods was going to be the death of Clarke Griffin, and it was going to be a slow, sexy death if Clarke had anything to say about it.

They shuffled through piles and piles of medical charts while Lexa explained how far back the hospital went.

“Polis Asylum was opened in 1893. Alexandria came here in 1896, around the time the first car came out. Alexandria was considered a woman of importance, and back then, this was considered the most successful psychiatric care someone could get. Of course, they knew next to nothing about psychology, so that isn’t saying much if you ask me. Not sure when Sally got here, but she died here almost a year after Alexandria got here.”

“How long was Alexandria here for?” Clarke asked as she looked at papers dated for the 1970s when the Asylum shut down permanently.

The Asylum had been a fixture on the edge of Polis for so many years. Residents used to talk about breakouts that COULD happen in hushed voices, but they never DID happen. Soon it was just a landmark in the minds of the people who lived in the town. An oddity that parents used as a spooky story when their kids would misbehave. Once it closed down, it became a place for teenagers to sneak into and come back with tales of ghost sightings, things being thrown, and creepy disembodied voices. Then came the teenagers who had snuck in in the early 2000s. It was said they had been doing a blood ritual; Satanic, the locals had said. Whether or not this was true, Clarke wasn’t sure, but one thing was sure: the teenagers were found mutilated beyond repair. The coroner had to use dental records. Since then, there was constant security.

“Alexandria,” Lexa said with a sigh, “was here for… three or five years, I think. She saw a lot of people come and go.”

“What was she here for?” Clarke asked quietly, her gaze shifting from the papers she’d been looking through to Lexa.

“For being a lesbian… like me. She had a lover whose name has been lost to time. Her family found out--well, her parents did--and they sent her away. They had always been trying to marry her off. The Woods family was filthy rich. She turned down every offer and proposal. As she was an adult, they couldn’t force her to get married, but I know they did try. They cut her off, and she went to work as a farmhand. Her sister, Anya, helped her with money. A little every week to pay her rent. But then she was caught with her lover, somehow, and suddenly they were saying she had problems and needed help. Her parents became her conservators, and they sent her here. Where she eventually took her own life. No one claimed her body. Her sister tried to, but the facility refused to release it to anyone but her parents. They buried her outback,” Lexa explained, eyes strong with… Clarke wasn’t quite sure what; it looked like Lexa was willing something to happen.

“What happened to her lover?” Clarke asked softly, scared to know the truth.

Lexa made a sarcastic smile and said, “Well, she was hung. She killed Alexandria’s parents. She let Anya live because, of course, none of it was her fault. Anya never spoke the lover’s name to anyone. She claimed, and so has everyone in the family since her, that it was cursed.”

“Oh, wow,” Clarke breathed.

“I don’t think there is anything in here, really. Unless you count the old medicine,” Lexa said after she had shifted through another pile of papers.

“I think you’re right,” Clarke agreed.

“What time is it?” Lexa asked.

“Two in the morning. It’s weird how fast time flies…”

Lexa smirked and said, “Sometimes it doesn’t pass fast enough. Anyway, we should probably head out. We both will need sleep, and I can cross this area off on the map.”

Clarke didn’t want to leave because leaving would mean a whole week without Lexa. Unfortunately, Clarke did need sleep and to get up and study for a test after said sleep. 

“That is probably a good idea,” Clarke mumbled, and then more audibly said, “You could text me if you wanted…”

Lexa smirked and walked into Clarke’s personal bubble.

“I’m off the grid, but I will definitely see you here next Saturday at nine.”

Clarke smiled and said, “Oh, I look forward to it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for how long it has taken to update this story (and any and all other stories). I am going through an extremely high risk pregnancy, and I rarely feel up to doing anything. But here it is! The next chapter. Please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback!

“Clarke, you were gone all damn night. Did ghosts get you?” Octavia teased, a wry smile on her face. 

Clarke laughed, “No, but I did run into this hot woman while I was there. We’re meeting up next Saturday to explore more of the asylum. She knows a lot about it since she had a relative there way, way back. She is pretty damn interesting.” 

“Oh, wow. Did you get this chick’s number?” Octavia asked. 

“No, she lives off the grid apparently,” Clarke said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. The fact had been bothering Clarke off and on lately. 

“Do people still do that? I mean, besides the Amish?” Octavia asked with disbelief. 

“Not sure. But I am meeting up with her again, so… that’s a good sign, right?” Clarke asked, wanting, no, needing validation. 

“Of course it is. So, what’s she look like?” Octavia quizzed, chin propped up on her elbow.

Clarke described Lexa to Octavia, a great audience, and then Raven got home from the gym and wanted to hear all about Lexa. Clarke had no problem discussing this, as she felt like she and Lexa had a deep connection even though they barely knew each other. There was something so familiar about her. Like Lexa could calm a quiet storm raging in Clarke’s heart, and she couldn’t precisely explain why to anyone else, let alone herself. 

The week dragged by slowly. Clarke, ever the artist, tried drawing Lexa’s face, but something was missing, and Clarke couldn’t pinpoint what. It was frustrating, to say the least, as this was a very rare occurrence for Clarke. She looked forward to Saturday evening more than she told anyone. She was excited beyond measure to finally see Lexa again and possibly memorize her face this time. 

Clarke had tried to look Lexa up on all social media, but her results were fruitless. Maybe Lexa really did live off the grid… Well, Wells seemed to think this was indeed the most likely explanation. What else could it be? 

“Unless she’s a ghost,” Wells had teased. 

Clarke had lightly smacked his arm and said, “Ghosts can’t hold flashlights, moron. How is political science going?” 

And that had been that conversation. Wells never pushed her, but she knew he was curious as hell to learn more. The thing was, Clarke didn’t know more, though she desperately wanted to. She vowed to herself that she would find out more on Saturday. She had to know more, and she brushed off the voice in her mind that kept asking why because, honestly, she didn’t have an answer. She just knew she was drawn to Lexa. It was like Lexa was a magnet that called to Clarke, and there was no way Clarke could resist.

Finally, Saturday evening came, and Clarke drove her old, red, beat-up truck to the same area as last weekend. It was dark out, and Clarke walked closer to the abandoned building, keeping an eye out for security. She never saw them, so she easily entered the building to find Lexa waiting on the other side of the door.

Lexa was even more amazing than Clarke’s memories had led her to believe. She was… sexy. She wore the same clothes as last Saturday, and when Clarke commented on it, Lexa smirked and said, “These are my exploring clothes.” 

Clarke gave her a wry smile and said, “You have exploring clothes?” 

Lexa smirked back and responded, “But of course. Now, where should we explore? I was thinking maybe the rooms off the day room. Not sure there is anything interesting there, but we can check,” and she shrugged.

Clarke smiled and said, “Yeah, that sounds good, Lex.” 

Lexa’s eyes widened for a split second, so fast that Clarke almost doubted seeing it. Then a small, secret smile lit her whole face up. She grabbed Clarke’s hand and occasionally led them to the day room using the map. The entire time, Clarke felt like she couldn’t breathe. This goddess was holding her hand! And she had done so of her own accord. She WANTED to hold Clarke’s hand! Clarke couldn’t keep the smile off her face even though she fought desperately to do so in case Lexa looked and questioned her about it.

They stumbled into the day room much too soon, but to Clarke’s surprise, Lexa kept holding Clarke’s hand. There were most definitely butterflies fluttering inside Clarke’s stomach at this, and she almost didn’t pay attention when Lexa began to speak. Almost.

“So, the less intensive patients should have been down here,” Lexa said and pointed to a hallway they could just barely make out that lead off the day room. 

“Was this always here?” Clarke asked curiously. 

“I don’t think so. From what I’ve heard and read, a lot of wings were added over the years. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a possible storage room down here they could have stored older files inside! Plus, there could be younger, more hip ghosts!” Lexa teased, turning to Clarke with a grin on her face.

Clarke snorted. She hated that when something was hilarious, she snorted, but there was really no helping it. However, instead of looking surprised that Clarke had snorted, Lexa smirked like making Clarke snort had been an accomplishment. That smirk felt so familiar, and Clarke couldn’t place why. As Lexa made to pull her down one of the hallways, Clarke pulled her back. 

“Do I know you?” Clarke asked. 

“Are you okay? I’m Lexa. We met last weekend…” 

Clarke shook her head because that was definitely not what she meant in the slightest. 

“I feel like I’ve known you for… years. Like this isn’t random. I know you, Lexa, but I just freaking met you. How is that even possible?” 

Lexa smirked again and said, “Well, there’s always past lives. Maybe we feel a pull to this place for a reason. Maybe not. There are many mysteries that are unsolved. Most of them are unsolved actually, which is scary if you get abducted, but th-“ 

And Lexa went quiet because Clarke was kissing her like she was the blood in Clarke’s veins. And yes, this was familiar. She knew what to do to take Lexa to a place where neither of them would back down, and Clarke wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. And she could tell by Lexa’s reaction she was doing everything exactly right, just like she had thought. 

Clarke moaned into Lexa’s mouth as they kissed, her hand tangling in Lexa’s hair and slightly pulling as Lexa’s hand traveled under Clarke’s shirt and up, coming to rest on Clarke’s breasts. Then Lexa began kneading them lightly, officially opening the flood gates between Clarke’s legs and making Clarke give a loud moan. This seemed to be just the encouragement Lexa needed because she broke the kiss to tug Clarke’s shirt off and undo her bra. 

Then Lexa was kissing her neck, down to her collar bone, hands still massaging Clarke’s breasts. And then she was sucking on Clarke’s skin and nipping her way to Clarke’s breasts. Rubbing while she bit, licked, and sucked, and oh gods, it felt so fucking good. Clarke had never had foreplay before with her past partner, and she definitely never thought she wanted it. But here and now, with Lexa? Boy, had she been fucking missing out. Her head was spinning, and the wetness between her thighs was becoming an almost steady stream. She kept moaning, wanting to rut against Lexa and, due to their position, not being able to do so, which caused Clarke to give a needy whine. 

As though Lexa had read Clarke’s mind, she picked her up and carried her to one of the rooms slightly down the hall, plopping Clarke on the small twin bed in the corner of the room. 

“God, I missed this,” Lexa murmured as she went to the other breast, and though Clarke wanted to question it, her brain wasn’t exactly functioning right. 

This time Clarke was able to grind against Lexa, and it felt so fucking good. Clarke saw stars, and she could hardly contain the breathy, needy noises she was making. She needed Lexa; she needed to feel this woman against her in the most intimate of ways, needed to be vulnerable in front of her. It felt so fucking right. 

Lexa was kissing her way down Clarke’s body, and it burned so good. Clarke was bucking her hips by the time Lexa got to the top of Clarke’s pants, and when she began to undo them? Clarke lost her goddamn mind.

“Lexa, please, please, pleaseeee,” Clarke begged, fingers gripping the plastic mattress beneath her. 

“You need this, baby?” Lexa asked as she slowly began pulling Clarke’s pants off. 

“Yes,” Clarke moaned, her pants now off and the only layer of clothing between her and Lexa being her panties. 

Lexa fingered the waistband on the older pair of Clarke’s panties, but really, who wore nice underwear to explore a dirty old asylum? It wouldn’t make sense. 

Lexa began tugging the underwear down slowly, driving Clarke up a wall. She wanted this; no, scratch that, she needed this. She had never needed someone so bad before in her life. She was all need and wanton lust, and when her panties were off, Clarke was moaning from the feel of the air against her.

“Tell me you want this,” Lexa ordered.

“Lexa,” Clarke moaned, unsure she would even be able to form coherent words at this time.

“I need to know you really want this, Clarke.”

“Need this. Lexa, please… fuck me. Now. Please,” Clarke begged. 

Lexa kneeled on the floor at the foot of the bed, and for a minute, she did nothing, leaving Clarke in a suspended state of need. Clarke whimpered, feeling more wetness flow out of her, and then she felt hot breath blowing on her clit, and all rational or coherent thoughts were erased from Clarke’s mind for the time being. Later she would think that her moans could have outdone any porn star in the world. 

She felt a tongue lap against her, and her hands came to Lexa’s head. She was begging for more. There was a fire between her legs she had never felt. Never before had she been so turned on. This was an exquisite ache that only Lexa could fix. 

Then Lexa applied more pressure with her tongue, and Clarke was gone. This was what she needed. She no longer knew what Lexa was doing, couldn’t pay attention to what was making her feel so damn good; she just knew that she was on fire and so damn close to already cumming for this woman. She was grinding against Lexa’s face and was distantly aware of her g-spot being stroked. It was too much; she was so close to orgasming so damn early.

“Cum for me, baby,” Lexa ordered softly, and that was all it took. Clarke was falling to pieces and being remade, babbling and moaning incoherently for Lexa as she rode out the most powerful orgasm she had ever had. 

When Clarke came to herself, her body still shaking, Lexa was standing up, staring at the ceiling. Clarke was perplexed as to why Lexa was doing this when clearly it was Clarke’s turn to pleasure Lexa once her legs weren’t made of jello. She opened her mouth to say it when she heard the loud bang from above them that shook the whole ceiling.

Fear raged through Clarke as she bolted upright, staring at the ceiling. It happened again, and dust fell from the rafters of the ancient ceiling. There was no way one person could make that much noise, even if they were jumping. This was too broad, too loud, too heavy. Clarke was afraid, the thought of ghosts and spirits running through her mind. Could it all be true? _Something_ was up there making noise. But was she brave enough to explore it? she wondered.

“Clarke,” Lexa hissed quietly, “Get dressed!” and she threw Clarke’s clothes at her and grabbed a flashlight. Clarke was too fearful to even realize Lexa must have carried Clarke’s shirt and bra with from the day room.

While still shaky, Clarke’s legs were able to hold her up well enough now, and she tugged clothes on as another thud came from closer to the doorway, but again from above them. Lexa looked unnerved and trained her flashlight on the ceiling at that general area. Clarke grabbed her camera and turned it on to record. She must have had perfect timing because suddenly, there was the sound of something huge and heavy being dragged across the floor of whatever room was above them and into the hallway. Something that sounded like it would take quite a few people to move. 

“Did you hear that, or am I crazy?” Lexa whispered, voice wavering.

“I definitely heard that. It should be recorded,” Clarke whispered back.

Lexa nodded, her flashlight still trained on the ceiling and her hand shaking slightly. Clarke wasn’t sure why, but she slowly walked towards and past Lexa, peering out into the hallway. It was silent. Too silent. This was the type of silence that preceded something terrible happening. Yet Clarke was oddly calm, something that astonished her given that seconds ago, she was so damn fearful. And then Clarke heard it; the creepiest thing she would ever hear in her life.

“Come play with me,” whispered a child’s voice from right in front of Clarke.

“Fuck that!” Lexa screamed, and Clarke wasn’t sure what Lexa was doing, but she heard mad scrambling.

“Who are you?” Clarke asked, the camera sweeping the area in front of her.

“Come play with me,” the voice said again, a little further down the hall to Clarke’s right, and Clarke began to follow it without even pausing to think.

“Are you crazy!” Lexa hissed from somewhere behind Clarke, but Clarke paid no attention as Lexa screamed, “Clarke, get back here!”

But Clarke wasn’t paying attention at all. She was seeing the light on the camera floating a few yards ahead of her. She didn’t even notice Lexa huffing and scrambling after her until she felt Lexa’s hand on her arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lexa asked. “We don’t know what’s going to happen to us from here. Maybe we should leave or go back or—”

“It’ll be fine, Lexa. Stop being so damn scared,” Clarke muttered.

There was more silence again as the floating light disappeared from her camera, and then the sound of something too heavy for even three or four people to lift was coming from directly above them. There was silence, and in that instant, Lexa pushed Clarke out of the way as the ceiling gave way, and an old tub fell through the ceiling as though it had been dropped and landed directly where they had been standing. 

Clarke turned her head to look at Lexa’s face, and she saw horror and something beyond fear etched onto Lexa’s face. Lexa was shaking and hyperventilating, and all Clarke could do was rest her hand on Lexa’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Lex. We are fine,” Clarke tried to soothe.

“We almost just died!” Lexa screamed her eyes on the upended bathtub that could indeed have just killed them. 

“But we didn’t. Something is certainly going on here,” Clarke mused.

“Ya think?” Lexa asked sarcastically. “Please, Clarke, let’s just go back to the damn day room area. We were safe there!” Lexa pleaded.

“Go back if you want. But if I can document all this, I can buy myself a damn house. I am staying,” Clarke said curtly, leaving absolutely no room for argument or discussion.

There was silence as Clarke got to her feet and walked over to the bathtub, camera going to the gigantic hole in the ceiling, but all Clarke could see was darkness.

“I’m not leaving your stupid ass behind,” Lexa grumbled in her ear, and her flashlight swung up to where the ceiling had been. Clarke squinted and used the camera to zoom in. She saw nothing but white tiles and busted pipes that had long ago emptied themselves. Clarke swung the camera down to the bathtub. It was seriously old and chipped, stained yellow from age. There was no way for them to flip it to see what the inside looked like. It would have been much too heavy. Still, Lexa reached out and tried to push it, but the damn thing wouldn’t move as Clarke had predicted mentally. 

“Something doesn’t want us here,” Lexa commented, her voice trembling.

“Too bad for it,” Clarke said back, sweeping the length of the hallway with her camera, but there was nothing. 

“Who is here?” Clarke asked loudly after a moment. Silence. And then—

From further down the hallway came a child giggling and the sound of small, quick-paced footsteps.

Clarke took off after the sound, Lexa cursing behind her as she followed. They weren’t following the map anymore, not that Clarke really cared. There were windows and fire exits. They would eventually find their way out. But this? Clarke wanted to capture this on film. So many of her friends would be able to help her edit all this and make a film. There was money in this! Was Clarke scared? Maybe a little. But she was more thrilled than scared. With the adrenaline coursing through her, she felt so damn alive.

Suddenly, Clarke stopped, and Lexa ran directly into her back. Clarke stumbled but managed to stay standing, and that was an excellent thing. Because on the screen of Clarke’s camera was a little girl, about five years old, standing there clutching a very old porcelain doll, if Clarke had to guess the type.

“What’s your name?” Clarke asked sweetly, doing her best not to scare the ghost girl.

The little girl giggled and took off running down the hall with Clarke following her and Lexa following Clarke while cursing under her breath hotly. Clarke was doing her best to keep the girl on the camera screen, but damn, she moved fast! Then again, it would make sense for a ghost to be able to move quickly, Clarke mused as the little girl completely vanished from one second to the next.

Clarke came to a halt, and once again, Lexa ran directly into Clarke’s back. This time, Clarke didn’t budge. She swept the area ahead of them with the camera, finally taking her surroundings in. Where those rooms? Clarke wondered, edging towards one of the doors and opening it. Lexa was beside her with the flashlight, and Clarke could see a padded room with thick, iron chains connected to the wall. 

“That’s barbaric,” Lexa whispered, and Clarke couldn’t help but to agree. She stepped into the room, and as she got closer to the padded while, she could see tears in the padding. It was old and very yellow, age having taken its toll on the room. As Clarke began slowly turning the camera, Lexa’s flashlight followed the path, and it finally settled on the wall by the door, where, written in what looked like blood, were the words ‘Help Me!’ 

Clarke could feel Lexa shiver as they were standing so close. It was so much blood, the words so damn big. Someone had gone through hell in this room. They had bled themselves to leave behind a message begging for help. What horrors had occurred here? Obviously, the community had kept things hushed up. This place was more terrible than Clarke had imagined. The pain and suffering that lingered in these walls, it was making Clarke tear up. 

“Whose room was this?” Clarke asked softly.

“I don’t know. It was possibly many people’s room. They probably rotated people in and out. At least, that is what I would think with there being so many people over the years. Unless we find the files, there is really no way to tell. Hell, I don’t know if this was even here in the beginning or not. It’s tough to tell,” Lexa breathed, her flashlight still shining on the words.

“Did you ever hear stories of children being here?” Clarke asked, slowly lowering her camera.

“No. Never,” Lexa said, confusion in her voice as though she was trying to piece together everything that was happening.

“Well, at some point, there must have been. Because that child wasn’t alive, and she clearly knew her way around here.”

“This is creepy,” Lexa said, swinging the flashlight around to get a better look at the padded torture room they were standing in.

It was silent now. Nothing was happening, and the dead seemed to be resting. Clarke had a distinct feeling that they wanted to be heard. They wanted the world to know their stories. Whatever had happened here had been terrible, and even the dead deserved justice. Clarke turned to face Lexa, planning to tell her this, when the door to the room they were in slammed closed and seemed to lock from the sound of it. Lexa screamed slightly, and then her flashlight flickered and died, plunging them into total darkness as a manic laugh was heard coming from directly behind them. Then Lexa screamed, a loud and terrible sound, and everything went quiet.


End file.
